New York dispatch. [volume], July 17, 1887, Page 6, Image 6

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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6
REST.
■Respectfully dedicated to Comrade Joba J. See on
the ead loss of his bod, June 20, 100/»
BY LIEUT. E. H. KELLOGG.
How short is life I The fairest flower
May fade and wither in an hour.
There’s not a moment, ae it flies,
But some one’s born and some one dies,
Lite seems a moment, teen ’tie gone,
•Ami all Is darkness till the dawn
Of that celestial, happy day
When God shall call our soul from Olay
To live forever In the skies,
Where none are born and no one dies}
Where care and sorrow all unknown.
The ever-living throng the throne.
And sing hosannahs to the King
Who sent His begotten Son,
"Who rulca each earthly, heavenly tuiDgs
IS ho, ere bis earthly mission done,
Took little children on bis knee.
••Buffer them all to come to me.”
In tender, hoiy accents said;
•'Of such is heaven’s kingdom made I
Comrade of mine, the heavenly King
Gathers your ioved one’s neath his Wing,
And guards them with paternal care
From every trouble over there.
There shall those little ones await
Their parents coming at the gate.
When life and toil and trouble cease—
When all is joy and perfect peace.
Nothing like love!
BY MARY BUTLER.
CHAPTER XI.
THERE IS NOTHING LIKE LOVE IN ALL THE
■WORLD.”
In the first-floor front of an extremely modest
London boarding-house sat Glynn Neville, late
trooper in her Majesty’s —th Hussars, leaning
back wearily in hie chair, his quiet dark eyes
half thoughtfully, half sadly, fixed on the street
below him.
The “ top season ” had just gone out, the
“ hoop season ” had come in, and the street
■was filled with children trundling them, racing
with them, falling over them amid much noise,
laughter, and tears; while the cries of a hawker
who added a drum and set of pandean-pipes to
a naturally stentorian voice burst now and
again through the din as he recommended his
damaged fruit to an inattentive public. A
mechanical piano tinkled dismally half through
a waltz tune, jerking in a manner that would
have been distracting to a musician, then
ceased, and alter a pause began again a few
yards away. But, notwithstanding the noise,
Glynn had opened the window lor the sake of
the breath of cool air that was wafted into the
little room on that warm August evening.
A traveling-trunk standing near, packed and
corded, and labelled “ New York,” showed that
the boarding-houee first-floor front would not
know him much longer, and some articles of
clothing—procured that day—were scattered
ever the table and ugly horse-hair chairs, or
kung out of the open mouth of a small port
manteau. There was about him all the disorder
fit preparation for a long journey, but, although
. he was to start for Liverpool at midnight, and
hie packing was not nearly completed, the ex
g*>’oopor was doing nothing beyond sitting still,
stening to and watching the turmoil without
ith an indulgent ear and eye—for it would be
Jong before be looked upon such a scene again.
sHe was enjoying the sense of being his own
master, and resting quietly, for he had been
jjramping to and fro in the hot streets all day,
■-buying what he required lor the new life before
him, and two severe wounds and the merciless
heat of Egypt had so injured his tine constitu
tion that he was easily fatigued now.
, As he lounged back wearily in his chair,
IWatching the swarming life outside, his thoughts,
instead of being busy with the unknown country
ito which he was going, turned to the past—to
»he proud cold face, with its strange expression,
half-restlessness, half-discontent, ot which he
had caught a glimpse now and then at Haugh
ton. Yes—she must have seen him, in spite of
all hie precautions, for she had stolen his pocket
-book, mistrusting him “after all—aiter all I” he
muttered passionately, and straightway lost
himself in a maze of conjecture and fruitless
speculation as to how and why the apparently
Manton act was committed.
Hie heart was still faithful to the waman who
had rejected him with such contempt five years
before. She might have known that it was only
to look upon her that he went there; she might
have had so much trust so much confidence —
in hie solemn word, after he had given her such
proofs of his faithfulness.
The sharp rat-tat of the postman as ha went
from door to door down the now darkening street
roused Glynn from these bitter and torturing
reflections. He watched the man, half hoping
for a letter from his one friend, to whom he
clung now in his loneliness as a child clings
to a parent; and yet, when the man walked up
Ahe steps, and he saw the word “Gannon’’
scrawled across one of the envelopes, the young
Anau’s heart sank within him ; for Garret Croft
.was to have met him at Liverpool on the fol
jlowing morning, to see him off and give him a
handclasp at parting, and this letter must be
an apology for disappointing him—a iarowell
»n paper.
He sprang up, and then sat down again,
drumming with his fingers on the table and
{biting the ends of his thick mustache, as impul
sive and impatient now, for all kis five years of
jjicipline and rigid obedience, ae he was when
die walked away from his bride about an hour
after their marriage.
He did not have to wait long ; in a very few
kninntes a sleepy eyed, dirty child tapped at
4he door and entered.
“ Two letters—both for me ?' ’ inquired Glynn,
jn some surprise.
"Yes, sir. An’ please, sir, you’re to sign
Jour name here, sir. He said so.”
And she pointed a grimy thumb over her
ehonldor toward the steps, where the postman
was still standing.
“ What-registered! Who in the world has
aent me a registered letter? Who knows of
ißj address but Garret?”
And the ex-trooper, as he spoke, held the
envelope with its blue crossed lines away from
him, and looked at it as if it were something
poisonous.
A horrible feeling of dread possessed him ;
something seemed to tell him that this was
from Hyacinth, and that she was sending him
~ jnoney.
“ ’H’s waiting—postman, sir,” said the girl,
.Offering him a slip of paper; “an’ he savs ae
■■ ’ow you’re to put your name ’ere, an’ look
sharp.”
Glynn hastily signed the paper, and, throwing
©arret Groll's letter upon the table, looked
closely at the written address on the other.
It. was not from Hyacinth—he was spared
that bitter insult at her bauds : and, with a sigh
jof relief he opened it, not much caring who
wras the writer.
The letter was written on a rather dirty piece
Of paper, and the penmanship was evidently
(that of an uneducated person. Having a faint
.idea that he had seen something like this un
steady hand on bills for horses’ food and other
(things pertaining to Captain Haughton’s estab
lishment, he turned the leaf to look at the s g
oature, and, as he did so, a Bank of England
note lor fifty pounds and some other papers
£ uttered softly to the ground. Glynn glanced
t them, but did not stop to pick them up, as
be was too impatient to read the letter.
" Dear Gannon: This comes hopping to find
you in good helth as it leves me thank God for
it and seeing as how you was sacked pretty
euddent, and might think I had a finger in it
(Which I had not I made interest with the cap
»ain for you and he’s sent you this stiff and
sasage intermediate for Sidney by Oocedental
her name if I haven’t spelt right "being a poor
hand at the pen going to-morrow 17th from Liv
erpool or Pacific name on ticket to starting this
jday week you telling me New York was your
game because Australia to deer I am
" Your fiend James Kelly.”
"Igot your address out of Mr. Croft’s room
it’s wrote upon the wall over the fireplace.”
“Now,” thought Glynn, when he had suc
ceeded in mastering the meaning of the ill-writ
4en, ill-spelt, and unspoiled words, “ what is
sthis? Is her hand in it? Is it part of the same
game that began with the stealing of my pocket-
Sook, which doubtless was accomplished with
Shis man’s assistance ? If it is not Miss Ver
■choyle, who else can it be?”
Pale with emotion he sat, holding the letter
in his hand and looking down blankly at the
(papers on the floor. Unreasoning and impulsive
as a woman in all that concerned the affections,
Jhe leaped to the conclusion that this letter was
from his fellow-servant—who had never been
on good terms with him, and was about the last
person in tho world to befriend him -had been
written at the instigation of the girl who had
blighted his life; that the money was her mon
ey, and that she was trying to tempt him to go
to Australia, alter having succeeded in gaining
possession ol everything that he might have
used against her.
Why was she so terrified at this whim of his
to look on her once more ? he asked himself,
Saying down premises of which at least he had
no proof, and then reasoning from them. Did
she tear that he would claim her and put her to
open shame, alter she had so long enjoyed
Mark Verschoyle’s money? Sarelynot! What
then could have induced her to employ this
groom of Captain Haughton’s to rob him first
and bribe him afterward ? Why was she so anx
ious lor him to leave England ?
To these torturing questions—which his so
ber judgment could not answer—his heart re
plied with a foreboding that blached his brown
cheeks even while he dared not put it into
words.
Ho rose from his chair and began walking
aimlessly about the room, a hundred disjointed
ideas, thoughts, and resolves passing through
bis mind; while Hyacinth’s pale, proud face,
contemptuous lips, and unhappy eyes seemed
to moot him at every turn.
Why bad sho done this thing ? Why had she
compromised herself so with a man who was ae
crafty and insolent as he was deceitful and
fawning? What necessity had driven her to
«ucb a desperate aot as this ? Must there not
have been some reason lor it ? She must sure
ly be going to do something that she feared
would force him io break his oath and claim
from her the fulfillment ol the vows that she
had uttered in Herby parish church five years
before I ♦
When his thoughts had reached this point,
land he was filled with the fear of the inevitable
conclusion to which they were bringing him
Jiis eyee fell upon his friend’s unopened letter’
fin that perhaps, which would doubtless have
40810 scrape of gossip ccpcernhig tho gue«;p at
Haughton Abbey, would be an answer to all his
questions, or a confirmation of what Ins heart
was repeating to him more loudly every mo
ment.
He sat down by the table, and, tearing °P® n
the envelope with shaking hands, read as 101-
“ 6ear Glynn ; Although 1 hope to' ®l»®P
hands with you to-morrow, I cannot leinua
from dropping a line to you now, to prepare you
for the fact that you will find the very happiest
fellow in the three kingdoms waiting for you at
Liverpool. Lily Verschoyle has accepted me.
Her parents have not said me nay, and we ar „
to be married three months from this. And it
is all your doing. My soldiering tuTOOd her
gentle heart to me first, and my soldiering I
owe to yon. I took courage on the night ol the
earl’s breaking-up ball, asked her, and received
my answer, so that I am really and truly the
very happiest, fellow breathing, and must gush
to you on paper like a school-girl. 1 have one
crumpled leaf among my roses, however—l
suppose one mnst not be altogether blessed in
this life ; it would be aggravating to other folk.
It is Miss Verschoyle’s evident dissatisfaction
and disappointment at her sister’s choice of a
nobody like me. She is not trying to prevent
our union certainly, but she utters many things
with those sneering lips of hors which put one
into a white fury even to recall afterward, and
winch are impossible to answer at the time. It
is a satisfaction to me that we are to have none
of her money—most of it will go, 1 suppose, to
pay Haughton’s debts. That is the last and
most puzzling bit of news here—the Refuser
has re used tor the last time, and the happy
man is the bully and roue whom you and I had
such a long experience ol in tho Soudan ! W hat
has induced •
The letter fell irom Glynn’s hand, and his
head sank forward on tho table ; silent, motion
less, with olenohod teeth and ashen cheeks, he
bore the agony of this revelation much as he
had borne the lancet and probe when the spear
head was being removed irom hie side.
Here was the explanation clearly and plainly
set down in this gay, triumphant letter before
him—the explanation toward which his thoughts
had been tending all along ; here was the one
possible reason for robbing him, for bribing him
to leave the country at once, doubtless calculat
ing that be would be on the high seas at the
time of her marriage, and so, even if ho saw
the name “The Hon. Mrs. Haughton” in a
newspaper, would not connect it with her.
"Her marriage I” He repeated the words
over and over again to himself through his
clenched teeth. The girl who had knelt by his
side and vowed to be true to him until death,
was deliberately planning and maneuvering to
blind him, to get him out of the country in or
der that she might marry another man I
“1 don’t believe it I—l can’t believe it I” he
cried out, finding some slight solace in the
sound of his own voice; while the spear-wound
just below his heart, which had won him an
honorable discharge and a small pension, beg -n
to smart and throb. “No, I won’t believe it I
She would not—oh, she would not I Her con
science may not be very clear concerning money
matters—a woman’s sense of honor never is so
keen on that point as a man’s -but her unsul
lied purity, her fair name—she would not risk
those—no, not even if her heart were really
touch and she loved. Loved ! Bah I She
could not love Haughton—she could not turn
from an unsullied and honeet affection to him.
No—a thousand times, no I I have been—and
shall be all my life—true to the words that I
vowed that morning, and so will she. Do I not
remember how she said, ‘lt is nothing tome
how you pass your life, but I shall live mine in
purity and honor all my days ?’ No—again no I
Wife to me she has never been ; but we are
bound together by tho most solemn ol ties. She
would not dare to do this wicked thing 1”
He had been walking up and down the small,
stifling room while these words fell irom his
lips. He paused now and sat down by the table
again, pressing his hand to his side— or the
soarrod flesh felt as if it wore being torn with
red-hot pincers. The long sword-cut on his
face also had become quite inflamed.
“If it were to bleed now until I died,” he
thought, writhing in hie chair with pain, “ what
a blessing it would be for her I But I shall not
die yet; I lived—l who sought death when mon
who had wives and little ones in England poured
out their lite-blood on the hot sand—men whose
death broke tho hearts of many a mother, wife,
or betrothed. A broken heart! Oh, do I not
Know what a broken heart is ?”
He started up and began walking about again,
in a tumult of doubt and apprehension, at one
moment believing Hyacinth guilty, at another
that there was some nefarious plot against her,
the first step in wbich required h s removal to
the other side ol the world. Slowly he came to
the resolution that it was his duty, having re
gard to the chain that bound them both, to go
to Haughton, see her, and, if this were a plot,
convince her that he still lived, and solemnly
warn her that she must abide, even as he did,
by the conditions of their separation.
The sun had now set; the lamplighter was
hurrying down the street, and the swarming
children were more noisy and energetic than
ever.
Glynn went to the window, and stood there
for some minutes staring, seeing nothing, how
ever, but Hyac nth’s fair face set between him
and all the world. Then, without waiting to
gather up the money or letters, he took his
hat and hurriedly left the house, walking with
a step so weak and uncertain, a demeanor so
wild and excited, that he was conscious of the
passer-by staring at him. A policeman even
turned and followed him for a few paces, won
dering if he were drunk or mad.
In the course of his walk Glynn Neville stop
ped opposite to a looking-glass in a hairdress
er’s ehop, and pulled the travelling-cap he wore
a little more over his forehead, scarcely recog
nising ae he did so the wild haggard lace—ashy
white but lor the angry scar on one cheek—the
drawn mouth and burning eyes that he saw
there.
He was an hour too soon for the train that he
intended to travel by, but he walked straight
toward the station. It was a relief to walk, to
be in motion; the time passed more quickly
amid the life end noise ol the busy streets,
which in a manner harmonized with the agita
tion and tumult in his heart, than in the close
little room that he had left. And so, long be
fore he had expected it, he found himself oppo
site to St. Pancras railway station with fully an
hour to spare.
He went inside tho terminus, and leaned
against a railing on one of the platforms, trying
to calm himself and to control the tumult
of emotions that was making his heart beat
against his side and his wound throb as if the
flesh would burst. He endeavored to interest
himself in the confusion, excitement and gen
eral disorder of the scene on which he looked
with such unseeing eyes, and so foree|himself to
pause for a little in the torturing incessant
thinking, conjecturing, questioning, that was
bewildering him, and to which ho could not
possibly obtain an answer for many hours.
The scene did lor a few minutes take him out
of himself. One of those great excursion-trains
that in July and August bring "country
cousins” up to the great city from every part
the kingdom had just labored slowly in: the
platform was filled, with a mass of people,
swarming, hurrying, crowding hither and
thither, most of- then not in the least knowing
whither they were to go next, but rejoicing in
the laet that this was London, and they were
going to have a wild ten days of enjoyment lor
their money—others looking anxiously for
“town” friends or relatives to pilot them to a
place of safety, or encumbered by baggage, or
wives and daughters, seeking assistance at the
hands ot some official, while the turmoil and
confusion seemed unending.
But the excitement and noise were welcome
to Glynn Neville—anything but silence and the
agony of his own thoughts was welcome to him
during the hour he had to wait. He pushed
into the middle of the crowd, and, one among
five hundred, driited slowly toward the main
entrance. He was not watching any one in par
ticular, when, in a strange, senseless, mechani
cal way, while a curious, dream-like, unreal
sensation took possession of him, his eyes fixed
themselves upon a tall, slim lady, dressed in
dark gray, wearing a thick vail, and carrying a
small bag or dressing-case in her gloved hand,
who was walking immediately in iront of him.
Her back was toward him ; a little tweed cap,
pressed down on her flaxen plaits and tied with
a double fold of black lace, hid all but half an
inch of her neck. Her long gray mantle was
loose, and concealed her tall, slender figure.
Gradually be awoke from the trance of
amazement into which he had fallen, to a sure
and certain knowledge of who she was ; and as
he did so, he told himselt that only sudden
death or some frightful accident would force
him to lose sight of her again, his wife-his
young, beloved wile-alone, unattended, at
night, in London.
Why was she here ? How could she so risk
her reputation ? Whither was she going ? he
asked himself wildly, a* he pressed forward
until he touched her dress ; and, in spite of all
his suspicions and ot the reason that he had to
execrate the daj that her false lace came into
his life, he Sell intoxicated with pleasure and
delight to bo so near her, to watoh over and
guard her unawares.
The crowd was rapidly thinning, cabs and
omnibuses carrying off the greater portion of
them, the rest being swallowed up in the rest
less life of the streets. He saw that she was
nervous, undecided, timid, evidently not quite
equal to the task before her, whatever it was. ,
Although she walked last, she stopped often,
looking up at the names on the street corners,
also about her, as if she dreaded something or
some one ; and once or twice she stepped aside
to avoid a group ot men whose loud voices and
bold eyes seemed to alarm her.
Why should he not speak to her now? he
asked himselt, when the first passionate delight
ot merely following anil watching her was past
He had been waiting impatiently lor the train
that was tp carry him to her, in order that he
might save her or warn her—he scarcely knew
which—and now that, by some mysterious ar
rangement of events of which he knew nothing,
she was here, within a few yards of him, pac- ‘
ing the lamp-lighted streets alone; surely this
was the time to speak to her I
As he debated this question with himself,
still keeping her in sight, it was decided for him
in away that he half expected it would be, leav
ing him no choice in the matter.
She paused before a brilliantly-illuminated 1
public house to look for the name of tho street, 1
and while doing so, her beautiful face and pale ;
golden hair, only half hidden by her vail, at- ,
traded the attention of two well-dressed half
intoxicated men. One of them advanced to- .
ward her and said:
“Ah—pardon, me—want name of street, my
deah? Can’t I assist you? Pretty girl—all 1
alone—so late—ver’ wrong—ah 1” and he tried '
to place hie arm ronnd her shoulder.
WhM brought Glynn NsyUly’e nqjue to Hya-
NEW DISPATCH, JULY 17, 1887.
einth’s lips in a wild, despair’ .
bling with nervous terror ar „j/L a ’A
herself from the fellow. ,;^‘ BS .'?^’ ¥ 8 ? n 0 _!“h
Glynn I” whilo the lights n > K . aftSahnr
and she almost fell? • danoad b ® for ® bar ®y es
and U pro e te*t 1 io 6 n aPr .' , ’ &I > tbat Babbin ß ar Y for b()1 P
mtlehean G - ma<le in her imagination to a
wasanswe° a daa «‘ P lMa tba Nile -
H b -ed at once.
whose uOm she had of as dead, for
.. , , memory she was Hying from the world
Bbe had once preierred to him, to cast her
aeli down where she thought the poor remains
of what she loved lay—he sprang forward at her
call and Hung the drunken wretch who had mo
lested her headlong Irom tho pavement; then
he turned, looked at her, and sho, with a sud
den and passionate movement, clasped him in
her arms.
So husband and wife met again, after five
years, under the flaming lights of a gin palace,
amid the hurrying life of the London streets.
Hyacinth gave no heed to the looks or com
ments of the passers-by, caring for nothing but
the lact that be was alive, that she held him fast
in her arms, pressed close to her heart, and
knowing that, before he cast her from him for
ever, he must listen to her, he must hear her
say:
*‘l am punished more than you, for I love
you—have loved you since the night I sent you
irom me f”
She tried to say this, fearing that he would
break Irom her, and that her opportunity would
be gone, looking up into his face and feeling the
beating oi bis heart against her side. But what
she saw in his face-love and forgiveness—
choked the words in her throat, and she could
only cling to him in a mute ecstasy of happiness,
one moment of which was worth all her five
years of wealth.
“ What’s the matter with the lady?” asked a
policeman, approaching them.
Glynn started, roused to the exigencies of
life by the man’s question.
“She is my wile—taken ill; could you get
me a cab?” he said, keeping down his emotion
with all the strength of his will.
The policeman signaled to a “growler.”
Then Glynn addressed Hyacinth.
“Hyacinth—my wile,” he said, “ will you
come home ?”
“ Home,’ she whispered, in a strange, dazed
way. “ Home ?”
And, turning slightly, sho kissed the sleeve
of bis coat.
He took her in his arms and placed her in the
cab.
“Drive on—anywhere,” he cried to the cab
man.
Sho was still clinging to him convulsively, as
if she never meant to release him irom the
clasp ot her slender arms. With a calmness
that surprised even Glynn himself, he placed
her beside him, and, submitting to her embrace
but not returning it, spoke to her in a low,
stern voice.
“Hyacinth, my wife—my loved and unfor
gotten wife—given to my arms thus by some
strange chance, telling me by your sweet eyes
fixed on mine, by your dear arms clasped about
me, by the utterance of my name when you
were in danger, that, in spite of your cruel and
sinful words to me five years ago, you love me
as I never dared to hope you would. Hya
cinth, I will not ask you why you are here—
why you, through a servant, robbed me and
then tried to bribe mo to go away into exile
why you allowed it to be said that you were
about to marry Cyril Haughton. 1 trust you, I
believe in you, in spite of everything, and I ask
you to give up all—all that you gave me up for
five years ago—and to listen to your own
heart.”
His voice faltered and he stopped, unable to
control h.B emotion. And she, her band creep
ing a little further round his bowed neck, her
cheek pressed a little closer to his broad shoul
der, an ineffable delight filling her heart, whis
pered, so low that he could scarcely hear her :
“I did net rob you; Haughton did—aiter
you were dead, he said. In that way ho dis
covered my secret, he declared. He told me
you lay beneath the sands of the desert; and
he threatened to put me in the felon’s dock un
less I married him. But, Glynn, I could not—
no, I could not. In life or death I am yours ;
and 1 believed you dead ; so I said ‘yes’ to gain
time, and 1 came away secretly ; and, of all the
money, I brought only enough to take me to—
to that place-oh, I should have found it—
where I thought you lay.’ 1
“ Good heavens I” he interrupted, involun
tarily clasping her waist; “ I see it all now.
How could I ever have doubted your inno
cence? He would have forcod you into marry
ing him, and then told you—when he bad paid
his debts with your money, and when you
would not have dared to speak tor fear of the
law—that I was alive, that you were not his
wife. Oh, Hyacinth, he would have lowered
your pride to the very dust; and I—what could
I have done then ?”
“ But there was never any fear of that—nev
er,” she answered firmly. “Did I not tell you
that I was going away—to hide from the law—
to hide irom him? For, Glynn, I loved you I
It was my punishment to love you—to long all
those live years for the heart I hid despised, it
is a relief to me to say it to you—to me, who
thought to say it over your grave. Let me
humble myseli this once to you 1 Let me tell
you this once that to look upon your face, to
hold you in my arms as 1 do now, is worth all
the riches in the world to me, and that I would
die—oh, 1 would willingly die so I”
His clasp tightened about her—he trembled
with emotion.
“ Will you give up all ? Will you let me hide
you from the law ? Will you come to my poor
home now, and across the seas with me to-mor
row?”
Bhe raised her head from his shoulder for a
moment, looked into his eyes, and answered
solemnly:
“Yes—for better for worse, for richer for
poorer, your home is mine, and I Will follow
you — oh, willingly — gladly — through the
world I”
» * . # . *
“ Glynn, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell it then, hyacinth; news is rare and
precious on the banks of lied River Creek ,” and
the speaker, who was half-way up a ladder,
training a great bush of “bitter-sweet” about the
doorway of an extremely new wooden house,
turned a sunburned bearded face over a rolled
up red shirt-sleeve, and looked down with hap
py, contented eyes at a very beautiful, if some
what untidy, young woman who was standing
beneath, a newspaper and an open letter in her
slim white hand.
“ No—come down, please. I want to be close
to you while I tell you. This ’’—holding up the
letter—" is from Lily.”
Something in her lace showed him that this
news, whatever it was, was serious. He drop
ped the branch of “ bitter-sweet,” came down,
put his brown band about his wife’s neck, and,
touching her solt cheek, said:
“ Well, Bluebell, tell me your news.”
“It is a letter from Lily; and she says that
Haughton, our enemy, whom we fear even here
on the borders of the Indian Territory, is—is
dead,” and she turned her face against his true
heart and began to sob like a child.
He gave a quick sigh, half of surprise, half of
profound relief, and, with his arm still about
her, took tho newspaper and opened it, a bold
heading—“ Suicide of an Officer,” meeting his
eyes at once.
A fit ending for him. Bah, child—why do
you cry ?” said the ox-trooper a little sternly,
when he had read the paragraph.
“ I cry not for him, but for Heaven’s mercy
to me,” she answered. “He is taken; lam
shown my sin, granted time to repent, pardon
ed, given you I”
“ I understand you,” he said, kissing her.
“ And now, when we get rich enough, wo can
go to Ireland in safety and see Lily and her
husband in that ivied house by the Nore, of
which she Is always writing.”
“Yes”—dreamily. “Do you know, Glynn,
in spite of what she says about her happy life, I
think lam happier—for I have Binned and been
forgiven, tried you and found you true; while
Lily Ah, well, we both know that there is
Nothing Like Love in all the world 1”
THE END.
DIAMONDS OF_A_PRINCESS.
They Disappeared in a Strange Manner
and Were not Returned.
One evening when Napoleon 1. was in all his
glory there was a grand gala production at the
Grand Opera, says a writer in the Irish. Weekly
Times. How many reigning kings and princes
occupied the boxes and balconies it is impossi
ble lor me to estimate; the very seats usually
occupied by the claequers were tilled with no
blemen. The Princess Borghese, sister of the
Emperor, the beautiiul and accomplished Paul
ine, sparkled and shone in her box, eclipsing
all around her by the splendor of her loveli
ness as the san does its satellites by the bril
liancy of its rays. Un her neck she wore a neck
lace, the diamonds and massive pearls of which
Intertwined and blended with transcendent art,
still lurther enhancing her incomparable bril
liancy. When she entered her box there was a
murmur of general admiration. The imperial
box opened in its turn and the master ot the
world appeared, saluted by these k ngs and
princes with a formidable cry of “ Vive I’Em
pereur I”
It was generally remarked that the empress
seemed unable to take her eyes off her sister
in-law, and appeared to be fascinated, dazzled,
like the other occupants of the vast auditor
ium, with the marvelous brilliancy of the neck
lace. Suddenly the box oi the Princess Bor
ghese opened, and a young major presented
himselt, wearing the brilliant and blue uni orm
of the aides-de-camp ot the emperor’s staff.
" Her Majesty, the Empress,’’ said he, bow
ing low, “admires the wonderful necklace
worn by your imperial Highness, and has ex
pressed the liveliest desire to examine it close.”
This episode occurred toward the middle of
tho second act. The entr’acte came and passed
away. The third aot concluded in its turn.
The fourth aot came and passed and the enter
tainment concluded, yet still the necklace was
not returned.
The Princess Borghese took this for a charac
teristic freak of Maria Louise’s. Next day,
however, she asked if the necklace had pleased
the empress, and whether she had found the
setting and arrangement of the jewels to her
taste. The empress was thunderstruck, for she
had not seen it, and bad sent no officer for it, as
described. Napoleon deigned to mix himself
up in the affair. He had the names of tho staff
officers on duty the preceding evening ascer
tained ; and then, one by one, under some pre
text or other, ho had them called before his
sister. She did not recognize one of them,
they summoned the Prince ot Otrante, Minis
ter ot Police.
A long council was held, Everything pojjj-
ble was done, but in vain. The unfortunate
i Bouche was ready to tear hie hair in despair.
He had set his keenest bloodhounds at work.
His beat detectives were literally run off their
legs, without result. As to their imperial mas
ter. he was literally bubbling over with rage,
and was almost on the point of thrashing bis
chief of police. But neither the necklace (which
was worth nearly *1,000,000) nor the audacious
thief was ever seen again.
MANY METAPHORS.
Some Words That Have Astonished
Attentive Listeners.
(Irom Chambers’s Journal.}
Ridicule, says a German critic, is like a blow
with a fist; wit, like the prick of a needle;
irony, like the sting ol a thorn, and humor, the
plaster wbich heels all wounds. All- ot these
qualities may be found in some metaphors.
Man is said to be an animal that has a mania
for getting up societies and making himself
president. If tho presidency has been already
claimed, he contents himself with the position
of treasurer.
In a cynical old bachelor’s opinion, ideas are
like beards—men only get them when they are
grown up and women never have any. It Was
probably another old bachelor who said :
“Nature shudders when she sees a woman
throw a stone; but when a woman attempts to
split wood nature covers her head and retires
to a dark and moldering cave in temporary de
spair.’’
A spinster says old bachelors are frozen-out
old gardeners in the flower bed of love. To
say that a coquette is a rose bush from which
each young beau plucks a leaf and the thorns
are left for the husband, is not very complimen
tary. Compliments are the coin that people
pay a man to his face ; sarcasm what they pay
him with behind bis back. A farmer said :
“One thing I don't like about city folks—
they be either so stuck up that yer can’t reach
’em with a haystack pole, or so blamed friendly
they forget to pay their board.”
A rural poet said of his lady love :
“ She is as graceful as a water lily, while her
breath is like an armful of olover.”
The Chinese call a man overdoing a thing a
hunchback making a bow. When a man over
values himselt overmuch they compare him to
a rat falling into a scale and weighing himself.
A lanatieal Sabbatarian writes: "J he Sunday
newspaper is a crayfish in the dykes ol misrule,
a crayfish that undermines banks, behind which
the racecourses, the theatres, the saloons, the
gambling dens, etc., are roaring for exit.”
Another newspaper described a tire by saying
that the red flames danced in the heavens and
flung their fiery arms about like a black funeral
pall until Sam Jones got on the root and doused
them out with a pail of water.
Gordon Cumming likened an African jungle
to a forest of fishhooks relieved by an occasion
al patch of penknives.
“You look,” said an Irishman at a pale, hag
gard smoker, “as it yon had got out of your
grave to light your cigar and couldn’t find your
way back again.”
A schoolmaster, describing a money-lender,
says:
“ He serves you in the present tense, he lends
you in tho conditional mood, keeps you in the
subjective and ruins you in the future.”
A close observer of human nature remarks:
“ Time marches on with the slow, measured
tread of the man working by the day.”
A French author is charged with the predic
tion that France will throw herself into the
arms ot the liberating sword. This is not quite
so bad as the politician’s speech : “We will
burn our ships and with every sail unfurled,
steer boldly out into the ocean of freedom. ’ A
clergyman on board a ship began a sermon in
the following manner: “Dear friends, I shall
embark my exhortation on the barge of my
lips, in order to cross the stormy ocean of your
attention, and in hope oi arriving saiely at the
port of your ears.”
A learned counselor, in the middle of an
affecting appeal in a slander suit, treated hie
hearers to the following flight of genius: " Blan
der, gentlemen, like a boa-constrictor of gigan
tic size and immeasurable proportions, wraps
the coil of its unwieldy body about its unfortu
nate victim, and, heedless of the shrieks of
agony that come from the uttermost depths of
the victim s soul—loud and reverberating as the
night thunder that rolls in the heavens—it final
ly breaks its unlucky neck upon the iron wheel
ot public opinion, forcing him first to despera
tion, then to madness, and finally crushing him
in tho hideous jaws of moral death.” A young
American lawyer, employed to defend a culprit
charged with stealing a pig, resolved to con
vince the court that ho was born to shine. Ac
cordingly, he proceeded to deliver the follow
ing brilliant exordium:
“ May it please the Court and gentlemen ot
the jury: While Europe is bathed in blood;
while classic Greece is struggling for her rights
and liberties, and trampling the unhallowed
altars Of the bearded infidels to dust; while
America shines forth the brightest orb in the
polit oal sky—l, with due diffidence, rise to de
tend the cause of this humble hog-thief.”
“Pray, my lord,” said a gentleman to a late
respected and rather whimsical judge, “ what
is the difference between law and equity
courts? ’
" Very 1 ttle in the end,” replied his lordship;
"they only differ as far as time is concerned.
At common law you are done for at once; in
equity you are not so easily disposed of. The
former is a bullet which is instantaneously and
charmingly effective; the latter is an angler’s
hook, which plays with its victim before it kills
it. The one is prussic acid; the other is lauda
num.”
A curious metaphor was need by the orator
who proposed to grasp a ray of light irom the
great orb of day, spin it into threads of gold,
and with it weave a ehroud in which to wrap
the whirlwind which dies upon the bosom of the
West. A writer remarks :
“We are afraid the machinery will break
down before the fabric can get through the
loom.”
A BLOW IN CONGRESS.
A Pistol Shot Its Sequel—An Incident
of jForty Years Ago.
(lien: Perley Poore in the Boston Budget.)
There was a wild scene on the floor of the
House of Representatives on the 23d of April,
1841, after a speech by ex-Speaher White, oi
Kentucky, whose subject was the tariff. He did
not, however, confine himselt to the subject. He
took occasion to defend Mr. Clay from the charge
ot “intrigue, bargain and corruption,” urged
against him in 1825, when he accepted the ap
pointment ot Secretary of State from Mr.
Adams, and also- from the charge ot having
made a speech in which he declared that “we
must have white slaves, if we had not black
slaves.”
When Mr. White had taken his seat some con
versation arose among members in his neigh
borhood upon tho subject, and Mr. Rathbun, ot
New fork, remarked that the charges against
Mr. Clay were true, and could be proved. Mr.
White, being irritated by the remarks, made a
sharp reply. Mr. Rathbun, alter the exchange
of a word or two with Mr. White, struck him.
Mr. White returned the blow, and the parties
were immediately engaged in close contlict on
the floor. All this was the work of an instant.
The members interfered in bodies. During the
melee a young man irom Kentucky named
Moore, who had been admitted upon the floor,
rushed into the crowd of members within the
bar, in a violent and menacing manner. He
was seized by some members and dragged out.
Mr. MoUauslin, of Gino, thrust him out ol the
door. The mahogany doors were fastened back
as usual, and green cloth doors substituted.
Moore drew a pistol and fired upon McCaushn
through the door. The ball, missing its ob
ject, took effect upon the thigh oi Mr. J. L.
Wirt, one of tho watchmen of the cap.tol. The
ball entered the inner part ot the thigh, aud,
passing around the bone, lodged.
The chairman ot the committee resigned his
seat to the Speaker, aud the Sergeaut-at-Arms
appeared among the combatants with the mace.
Tranquillity was m a moment restored. As to
Moore, lie was sei e l by Gen. Dodge, and kept
tranquil 111 he was arrested in duo lorm by the
Sergeant-at-Arnas.
Mr. Dromgoolo moved that the parties to
the affray be brought to the bar of the House
for trial.
Mr. Saunders suggested that a committee be
appointed to inquire into and report upon the
lacts.
Mr. White rose, and in a brief and very prop
er manner, expressed his deep regret at the
occurrence, and apologized to the House lor
his participation in it.
Mr. Rathbun followed and submitted himselt
to the judgment of the House, apologizing to all
around lor what he had done through a hasty
temper, and declaring that he felt nothing but
the greatest respect and friendship for the gen
tleman Irom Kentucky.
Mr. White thereupon offered hfa hand to Mr.
Rathbun, declaring that after the gentleman’s
declaration it was not in hie nature to entertain
any unkind feelings toward him.
This reconciliation had so dramatic an effect
that the whole audience on the floor and in the
galleries began simultaneously to applaud by
clapping of hands.
Mr. Dromgoole withdrew his proposition, and
remarked that be did not consider it necessary
to pursue the subject.
Mr. Saunders thought it due to the House that
an inquiry should be made. The matter would
go forth to the public and would be misrepre
sented. There should be an authentic report of
the matter, if nothing else was done.
Mr. Holmes, after some preliminary remarks
on the disgraceful character of these disorders,
said he ielt it due to his constituents and to the
country to offer a resolution, which he sent to
the chair, viz.: “That the Hon. John White, ot
Kentucky, and the Hon. B. Rathbun, ot New
York, be expelled Irom the House.”
Mr. White did the same. It must be noticed
that Mr. White called upon the reporters espe
cially to note his declaration that the rash
young man, Mr. Moore, was utterly unknown
to him. Though Mr. Moore was said to be a
Kentuckian, he avowed that he did not know
him even by sight.
The end of the matter was, that all other
propositions being re.ected or withdrawn, it
was ordered that a committee of five be ap
pointed to inquire into and report upon the sub
ject.
Acte of violence on the floor had often occur
red, but this was the first instance of the inter
ference ot a stranger, and an armed man, in
the affrays ot the House, on the floor and in
lull session. It was an evil precedent, and the
more so inasmuch as the offender was said to
be a responsible and respectable man.
‘ THE CHAMPION LIAR.
I A PHILADELPHIA DRUMMER PA
RADES AS THE ONLY EXPERT.
i (from the St, Louis Globe-Democrat.)
i 11 Do you observe that quiet-looking man
I leaning against the poet over there ?” remarked
Mr. J. B. Stretch, chief clerk of the Lindell, yes
terday. “ You refer, I presume,” said a Gluhe-
Democrat reporter, “ to the gentleman with the
pepper-and-salt suit, and whose straw hat is
tilted slightly to one side.”
“ That’s the follow. Now, just wait a minute
and I’ll call him over here. You wouldn’t think
it, but that man is the biggest liar in the United
States, and the only expert in that line that 1
■ ever met, who boasts of it. Ah, here he comes
now.”
“ This is Mr. James B. Thompson,” said Mr.
Stretch, “ and Mr. Thompson, this is a Globe-
Democrat reporter.”
“ I was just talking about you to my friend
here,” continued Mr. Stretch, ** and we both
agreed that nobody, to look at you, would ever
think that you were such an awful liar.”
Mr. Thompson, instead of getting mad and
wanting to fight, smiled in a sad sort of way,
and observed that lying was not what it used to
be.
“ When I began drumming up business for a
Philadelphia house,” said he, “ a first-class liar
was worth his weight in gold. It was a profes
sion then, and was recognized as such, but
nowadays every man takes a hack at it, and the
business has fallen into disrepute.”
“Have you had any shocking experiences this
trip ?” asked Mr. Stretch, encouragingly.
“Nothing of much account,” replied Mr.
Thompson, thoughtfully; “unless you would
call sleeping in a farm-house all night an ex
perience. Joe Scott and I—of course you know
Joe—he’s in the notion business, too. Well,
sir, Joe and 1 met in Reading, Pa., this trip,
and says he to me, •Jimmy,’ save he, ‘let’s
take a dive into the country and tramp it as far
as Hamburg.’ Hamburg, you know,” contin
ued Mr. Thompson, pointing toward the Pa
cific Ocean byway of illustrating the direction,
“is twenty-four miles north of Reading. ‘ All
right,’ says I ; ‘Joe, I’m with you.’ And off we
started. Well, sir, wo tramped ahead until sun
down, and we were so played out that we put
up at the first farm-house we came to, and made
au arrangement with the old man and his wife
for a room. The house was a regular old
timer, with only three rooms in it, and they
directly over each other. The old man was
sort of suspicious of us at first, but Joe swelled
his head about a big sea serpent that they had
just caught in the Schuylkill, near Reading,
and made him feel easy. After supper, the old
man led the way up stairs with a tallow candle,
and left us for the night. Joe and I got to tell
ing each other yarns, and I guess it must have
been pretty late when Joe’s face turned sort o’
white, aud says he, ‘Jimmy,’ says bo, ‘what 11
we do—the bottle’s in your grip down stairs.’
We drew lots to see who’d fetch it up and I
lost.
“ I could hear the old man snoring as I went
down the stairs, but lor all that he heard me
crawling through his room. ‘Who’s there?’
says he, jumping up like as though he was go
ing to have a fit. ‘Mew, mew, mewl’ says I, im
itating a cat. ‘Pish, cat!’ says he, and then he
turned over and went to sleep. I went on down
and got my liquor, and then returned to our
room without further trouble. Joe, who is an
awiul nervous fellow, was waiting for me in
some excitement. ‘Gimme it, quick’ says he,
‘l’m nearly dead for a drink.’ ‘Joe,’ says I, ‘if
you’re as thirsty as that you can go after it
yourself.’ ‘Great Scott, old man!’ says he, ‘l’d
never get through that old man's room alive. If
be were to yell at me the way he did at you, 1
believe I d die.’ ‘That’s all stuff, Joe,’ says I,
‘just go on down stairs, and if the old man
wakes up do as I did, and let on you are a cat.
Joe shuddered, but he had to have a drink, and
down he went. I was airaid something was go
ing to happen, so 1 listened, and, sure enough,
Joe hadn’t more n got into the old man’s room
when he banged his big head aga.nst a chair,
and upset it.
“‘What in thunder and lightning’s that?”
yelled the old man, jumping clean out of bed,
going for h s gun.
“ ' Hold on,’ said Joe, ‘ don’t shoot; it’s only
a cat 1’
“ 1 heard poor Joe go ng down the stairs head
first, and every step lie struck was a sickening
thud. Poor fellow ! who knows but that that
old farmer beat the life ont of him ?”
“Didn’t you go to his assistance?” asked Mr.
Stretch, in astonishment.
“ No,” replied Mr. Thompson, as he moved
away from the desk. “Joe and I were in the
same line of goods, and it wouldn’t be business
lor me to save his life. He was a good fellow,
though, for all that.”
" It’s some relie ,” said Mr. Stretch, turning
to the reporter, alter Thompson had gone, “ to
know that that man is an awful liar.”
the Detroit Solomon.
He Dreamed Last Night—Only a Bet
in a Gentle Way.
HE DREAMED LAST NIGHT.
On© of the priaonere in the corridor wae Bing
ing us court opened, and lor a couple of min
utes everybody listened to the voice and the
words:
Oh, I dreamed last night ob de dear old home;
Ob de fields ob co ton and co’n;
Ob de big white house which stood on de hill,
Ob de cabin in which I was bo'n.
CHORUS.
An’ ole master was dar an’d de chillsU cum back,
An’ I saw my dead Mary again;
An’ de songs ob de negroes was borne on de air,
An' de quails whistled softly fur rain.
" It’s sad, Mr. Stebbins,” observed his Hon
or, as he looked up.
"It is, sir. Such songs always touch my
heart. 1 wish you'd let the man go.”
“ Well, we’ll see; you may bring him out.”
HE WENT.
The prisoner proved to be a coal-black negro,
witli one blind eye, clothing badly torn, a fin
ger done up in a rag, and a bad limp in one of
his legs.
“Is your name Peter Jackton?” asked his
Honor.
“ 1 dun refute to say, sah.”
“What’s tn® matter with you, Peter?”
“ De matter am dat some white folks will git
killed if dey doan’ mind deir hizuess.”
“ You were drunk last night.”
“1 doan keer il l was.”
“ Peter, it you have any excutes to make I
will hear them.”
“ I dun want to go home Bah, an’ Ize gwine,
too 1 If anybody tries to stop me, dey had bet
ter look out. Ize called Peacelul Pete, but 1
ain’t peacelul if anybody puts deir hands on
me 1”
“ Peter, you are a bad man, and I shall send
you up lor sixty days.”
"I won’t go, sah 1”
It took three o licers to return Peter to his
cell, aud during the operation Mr. Stebbins re
ceived three kicks and two bites, and all the
sentiment was knocked out ol him before he
got through with the struggle.
ONLY A BET.
John White was a respectable looking young
man of twenty, with a bad, black eye sad a
sorrowful look, and when the Court intimated
that his sorrowful story would bo patiently lis
tened to, be explained :
“ You see, I was going up Woodward avenne
with a friend. We saw an old man on the cor
ner. My friend bet the cigars that I das’ent
knock the old man’s hat off.”
“ And you took the bet?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“And you knocked off his hat?’
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Ami then ?”
“The old man knocked me down.”
" Was he arrested ?”
“ No, sir ; he had gone before the officer got
there. I made a fool of myself, your Honor.”
“So you did, George. Beware of old men.
They look innocent and harmless, but strike
like a pile driver. Have you got a five about
you !”
“ Y-yes, sir.”
“ Well, hand it to the clerk and go. Your
eye will be all right in about ten days, and the
experience will be worth SSUO to you.”
IN A GENTLE WAY.
“Don’t be rough on me, Judge,” remarked
David Williams, as Stebbins brought him out.
“ What do you mean!”
“ Why, don’t call me names and say I’m the
worst man in the world, and threaten to give
me ten years. You can do far more with me in
a gentle way.”
“ Very well, prisoner, let me throw out a
soft hint that you were embarrassed yester
day.”
“ That’s the way. Judge. Yes, I was embar
rassed.”
“ And you were found asleep on the broad of
your back.”
“I was. It was a ease of mingled exhaustion
and prostation.”
“For which the sentence "
“Gently, Judge. Speak it softly.”
“ Is thirty days.”
“That will do. I haven't a complaint to
make. You treated me kindly and gently, and
I will go up without a protest. Good-by,
Judge, and may your business thrive and
prosper until they have to enlarge the Work
house.”
RAZOR BACKS.
THE FEARFUL HOGS OF FLORIDA
(Oscar Edgar in Palatka News.}
We have seen his long tusks divide a dog like
a sword; we have seen a panther so terribly
wounded that the poor oat erect off in despair i
to die, while the hog recked not of flowing
blood from hie own neck and shoulder, but
proudly challenged a renewal of the fight.
At Tocoi lately, a hog made it a point to
stand on the track whenever he saw the loco- ,
motive coming, and the engineer stopped for
lour coneecutive days to drive him off. At last,
tired of humanity which roused no gratitude,
the train hands assembled by invitation to see
that hog demolished. He was on the track
awaiting his doom, aud extra speed was drawn
from fat pine hurled into the furnace with mal
ice prepense. The hog raised his head in sur
prise when no stop was made, and, seeing his
danger, started at a gallop down the track. In
vain the engine rushed forward with madden
ing speed, till coaches rocked and ladies
screamed in terror. When the train reached
Palatka the hog was eating corn at Vertree s
stables.
On another occasion the writer of this was
sleeping in camp, and around lay a pack ot
hounds who had olten proved that a bear at
bay brought no terror to their hearts, and who
carried scars honorably earned in a strife with
the wildcat and panther. But a number ot
these razor backs came around in the dead ot
> night, and, when the dogs attempted to drive
I them off, they charged like warriors true and
- tried. They swept off the dogs and charged
■ oyer the hunters—blankets, guns, cooking uten
» oils and fishing rods became things of the past,
i and stout men took refuge in the boats. Then,
to save the dogs, revolvers entered into the
• fray, and finally the fierce grunters moved off
: m search of pastures new. With the early
I dawn came a long, lean man, who carried
a rifle as long as himself, and he assessed the
i damages, which the hogs should have paid,
and carried off the slain, which the victors did
not want.
UNCLE SONG.
It Broke the Deadlock and Elected a
United {States Senator.
Th© election of Hon. James K. Jones, United
States Senator from Arkansaw, came about in
rather a remarkable manner. During several
days three candidates, with about equal
strength, had held the Legislature in a dead
lock, when, one morning, while Mr. Jones was
drinking a weak lemonade with the low gurgle
of despair, a member of the lower house ap
proached him and said:
“Jim, something has jest nachully got to be
did.”
“ I know that, Abe.”
“ Fur et something ain’t jest nachully did,”
Abe continued, “ the deadlock is goin’ to break
agin’ you. I was thinkin’ of a scheme, Jim, that
1 think will work.”
“ What ie it ?” Jones asked as he put down
his glass.
“ W’y, it’s this: Let’s git old Uncle Zack
Baker, oi Benton county, to sing a song when
hia name ia called.”
“ He’s been voting for Berry nil the time
and his singing won’t do me any good,” Jones
replied.
“ Yes, but give him a chance to sing and he’ll
change his vote. He’s pining away for a song.
His system jest nachully demands it. Without
hearing himself sing occasionally hie life is as
void, as aimless and as destitute As the editor
oi the Batesville i-tuard.”
“ May Heaven preserve him from anch a
fate.”
“ Well, then, he must sing. If be don’t the
rocks wiil sing for him.”
“ But,” said Jones, “ don’t you think that it
would be advisable to let the rocks do the sing
ing?”
“No; for although they mout beat the old man
singin’ yet they can’t vote so well.”
“ That’s a tact. Tell him to sing.”
When Uncle /ack’s name was called he arose
and began to aing a song in praise of Jones, and
just as he had entered upon the sixty-eighth
verse an influential man arose and exclaimed:
“ What do you want us to do, old man ? ’
“ Want you to vote for Jim Jones.”
“ If you’ll abut off your valves we’ll j’ine
you.”
The old man shut off his valves and Jones
was elected by a handsome majority. The
President of the Senate “ hung 1-re ” a little,
but when Uncle Zack braced himselt and again
lifted hia voice the conquered dignitary ex
claimed: “Hold on, Uncle Zack, I vote lor
Jones.”
Tench. —A writer in an English paper
says: Of all tbe fresh-water fish that are worth
cultivation for tho table the tench gives the
least trouble. Almost any pond will suit his
contented mind; like tbe modest violet, he
shuns tho “ eager eye ot day,” and the deeper
and quieter tbe pool in which ho is placed the
better ho is pleased, tike his near relative and
close ally, tho carp, swift rivers are not to his
taste; gravelly beds and clear running water
are to him abominations. A deep quiet pond,
with a bottom ot mud in which he can find the
larvie upon which he principally subsists, is
more to his mind; or, better still, one of those
deep pits from which clay has been dug for
bricks. When these pits are filled with water,
tench thrive greatly therein; tho quiet which is
conducive to meditation seems also conducive
to adipose tissue, and in such situations tench
grow fat and multiply in a manner most edifying
to their proprietor. Tench are found in the
most slow-running rivers and ponds in Europe,
and in many places are greatly esteemed for
the table, In England they are found in great
quantities in Nor oik and Suffolk, and also ftl
tbe Southern and Midland counties, but larther
north they gradually diminish. In Scotland
they are rare, in Ireland they are pretty widely
d stributed. lu the Winter the tench generally
buries itself in the mud, and, as Couch re
marks, " there lies tsoneealed, perhaps for a
longer time than is pleasing to itself, although,
from the power it possesses of extracting the
minutest portions of air from almost exhausted
water, it continues to live while other fish must
have perished.” This peculiarity of the tench
has afforded scope for experiments which have
proved that thie fish is al lo to breathe when the
quantity ot oxygen is reduced to the five thous
andth part of the bulk of water, ordinary river
water generally containing one per cent, ot the
oxygen. Dr. Bogel observed that “ this fact
shows the admirable perfection of the organs of
this fish, which can extract so minute a quanti
ty of air from water, to which that air adheres
with great tenacity.” This characteristic ot the
tench, which enables it to live tn circumstances
which would kill many other fish, greatly, in
creases its value as a marketable oommoditv.
Like its cousin, the carp, It can be conveyed
long distances to market, packed in straw, or
wet moss, and, if not sold, brought back to the
pond or stew whence it was taken, to await
another occasion of sale.
At Balzac’s Death Bed. —Victor
Hugo went to see Balzac when the great author
of the "Human Comedy ” lay dying, and he
has left thia little record of hia visit; “We
passed through a corridor and entered a stair
case covered with a red earpet and incumbered
with objects oi art, vases, statues, pictures, eas
els and gems ; then through another little cor
r dor and an open door. I heard a heavy and
a sinister breathing, and I knew I was in the
death chamber o Balzac. In the middle of this
room stood a largo bedstead of mahogany, hav
ing at its toot and head straps and pulleys
which, connected with the sick man, could be
moved only by mechanical contrivances. Bal
zac lay there, his head raised by a mountain of
pillows, to which had been added the red dam
ask cushions taken from the sofa ; his face vio
let, almost black, and he leaned to tbe light.
Hie gray hair was 100 short, and his eyes were
wide open and staring; his profile was wonder
fully like that of the Emperor Napoleon I. An
old woman, who was the nurse, and a servant
stood on either side, and were listening with a
kind ol terror at this heavy breathing ot the
dying man ; tho feeble glare of the candle on a
stand near by, lit up the portrait ol a rosy and
smiling youth which was hanging justabove the
bead of the bed.” Of tbe funeral day, he says,
briefly: “It was one o those days when it
seems as if heaven shed a few tears.”
Britannia’s Spoons and Fouks.—
Says the London World : The royal plate is
usually kept in two strong rooms at Windsor
Castio, and is valued at SIO,OC'O,(kiO. The gold
service, which was purchased by George IV.,
dines 130 persons, and the silver wine cooler,
which he bought about tbe same time, holds
two men, who could sit in it comfortably, it is
inclosed with plate glass, and the splendid
chasing occupisd two years. There are some
quaint old pieces in the royal collection which
belonged to Queen Elizabeth, having been taken
from the Spanish Armada, and others were
brought from India, Bnrmah and China, and
there is one cup which belonged to Charles
XII. of Sweden. There is a peacook of pre
cious stones valued at $200,000. The body and
tail are composed ot solid gold, profusely stud
ded with pearls, diamonds, rubies and eme
ralds. The tiger’s head, known as Tipnoo’s
footstool, is formed ol silver gilt, with eyes ot
rock crystal and a tongue ot solid gold. These
two trophiee of oriental extravagance were
taken at Seringapatam. There are an immense
number of gold shields, some ot wiiieh are
richly ornamented. One of these was formed
oi snuff-boxes, under the direction of George
IV., aud is valued at $50,000. There are thirty
dozen of plates, which were bought by that
sovereign at a cost of $55,000.
Nor Changed Fob the Bktteb. —lf a
man’s wants did npt multiply this would be a
pretty comfortable earth. It has been a steady
one of invention for fifty years—inventions tor
men’s use and comfort. But tbe man has
changed ; his shelter is better than that of his
father, but tbe son is a more tender plant. The
sewing machine girl works as hard and as long
as Hood’s sewing girl, and s as likely to “stitch
a shroud as well as a shirt.” With other in
ventions wants are invented, and it requires all
tbe things and tbe latest thing to make a man
comfortable. He grumbles as much behind a
locomotive as his father did behind oxen. Hs
is impatient with the telegraph. Look st the
children’s books of to-day. Contrast them with
the primers of your childhood. It is a wonder
ful advance in binding and printing. The ad
vance in wood engraving is remarkable. But
I question if there is any gain in pleasure. The
modern yell of delight is not shriller than that
heard a hundred years ago trom a log house in
a clearing.
The Willow a Useful Trek. —There
is no tree that is so sure to grow without any
care as the willow. A twig Irorn abraneh of tbe
tree stuck into the moist earth, and the labor
is completed. An article in a Gormin contem
porary, which is a great authority, recommends
tho cultivation of willow trees, not only Irom an
economical and industrial point ol view, but also
lor hygienic purposes. They are especially
useful where the drinking water is taken from
fountains or natural wells, and still more where
there are morasses and meadows; for in the vi
cinity ot willow trees water is always clear and
pure. Let those who doubt this fact place a
piece of willow which has not yet begun to
strike, into a bottle of water, and place this
within another bottle containing water only, in
a warm room lor eight days; in tlie first bottle
will be lound shoots and rootlets in clear
water, while the other bottle will contain putre
fying water. Holland is covered with willows,
aud their dam works are made stronger by the
lormcd by the roots.
How a School Teacher Became a
Marchioness.-t Gil Dias relates an amusing
story of a birth and of a marriage in high life iff,
Paris. Happy father marquis is 70 years of
age, while bis wife is some thirty-five years
younger. A child-is a result ot a marriage of
ten years. In connection with the birth notice
this paper gives a little history of the incidents
which led to the marriage. The fair marchion
ess is English. She was a teacher in one of the
private schools of Paris. She believes in tbe
English idea of fioggiug, and occasionally puh«i
tailing her pupils with a whip. One patron ot
the school was the coachman of the marquis in
question. Both ot his children were refractory,
an .‘l punished. Tho coachman resented
this assumption of authority by the teacher, and
warned her never to punish his children again.
The teacher persisted in her course, and soon af-i
terward had occasiou to give one of tbe coach
man’s children another Hogging. A flavor so af
terward the teacher was passing the palace of the
marquis, when the coachman came out, seized
the teacher, drew her into the courtyard of tho
house, and then and there proceeded to admin
ister to her an old fashioned spanking in retali
ation for her punishing his children. The mar
quis came along when tho coachman was in the
midst of his castigation. The marquis was very
indignant, aud promptly rescued the unhappy
woman from her undignified position. The ac
quaintance made by the marquis with this wo
man under such ridiculous circumstances led
directly into an intimacy and marriage. The
coachman’s spanking resulted in giving a pqotif
English school teacher one of tho loading
tions in Parisian society.
Ancestral Worship in China.—An
cestral worship is the only religion of China.
So entirely does it take precedence of every
thing that the most important officers of State
are obliged to retire from public life for a period
of many months if one of their parents should”
die. Even judicial decisions are controlled by
this strange faith. When a man is lound guilty
of a crime worthy of severe punishment, the.
magistrate, before he passes sentence, inquires*
whether the parents of tlie culprit are still
living, or how long it is since they died—
whether lie has any brothers, and, if so,
whether he is an elder or a younger son. If
either parent has died recently, or if the culprit
is an elder or a younger son, his sentence will
be much lighter than it would otherwise be, as
no magistrate would willingly incur the re
sponsibility of subjecting a mm to such im
prisonment as would compel him to’ neglect
these sacred duties. This danger would
naturally be much greater if sentence of death
bad to be passed, and tbe judge would proba
bly make large offerings and apologies to the
soul of tho executed criminal.
Romantic Suicide.— A middle-aged
tradesman, whose corpse hag Just been discov
ered in the Boa of Vincennes, at l aris, not only
died for true love, but lent a tinge ot romance
to his death. His body was found leaning up
right against a tree, with a revolver in the right
hand aud a bouquet of flowers spattered with
blood clasped in the left. The flowers con
cealed a folded paper, addressed to the cruel
one, named Louise, in which the deceased had
written his farewell. “Before I die,” wrote the
tradesman—who evidently was meant by na
ture :or a poet—“ I gather tor thee, Louise, my
beloved one, a bouquet ot Spring flowers,which
I will clasp in my left hand, while with the oth
er I send a bullet through the heart that for
love of thee ceases to beat. On these humble
flowers I let fall my last tears, I press my last
kiss, before leaving for another world, and I
pray the person who finds my lifeless remains
to deliver to thee the bouquet aud the revolver,
in the hope thou wilt keep them as souvenirs of
my deep affecrion.” The poor fellow’s wishes
were carried out, the police causing the souve
nirs to be conveyed to Louise.
Early British Coins. —Within the 1
last few years the researches of Dr. John Evans
have established the fact that for a full century
prior to Ca sar’s invasion gold coins were mint
ed by British kfogS. Some ot early gold
coins bear the names ol British kings, eCeh as.
Tincommius aud Verica, of whose existence We
possess no other record. The Britons not only
employed this gold coinage, but had a smaller
currency of the metal which gave tbe island its
early commercial importance. These tin coins
were cast in wooden molds, as is shown by the
impression of the grain ot the wood, which is
visible upon them, while the route followed by
the British tin-trade is indicated by tbe curious,
fact that they are rude imitations of the coins
•f the Phocean colony of Marseilles, where
money was minted as early as the filth century
B. C. These coins, of course, bear no dates.
Solidified Sea S’oam. —Ambergris,
which commands a high price for perfumery
and is prized in the East in medicine and as a
flavor in cookery, was once absurdly guessed
to be h rdened foam oi the sea, or a fungoid
growth in the ocean, but is now known to be ».
secretion of tbe liver of the spermaceti whale*
and is evidently a product oi some disease in
the animal. It is a soft, fatty substance of vari
egated gray or blackish color, and omits an
agreeable odor when rubbed or heated. It is
principally found floating on iho seas of warm
climates, though it ia also obtained from the in
testines of the whales The largest piece known
weighed 182 pounds, and was bought from th®
King of Tydore by the Dutch East India Com
pany. A piece weighing 130 pounds was found
in a whale near the Windward Islands, and told
or £SOO sterling.
Game Pigs. —The fiercest game yon
come across in Honduras is hogs. Now, don't
get disgusted. 1 ig-kiil:ng in Honduras is no
child’s play. The beasts often tree a tiger, and
Keep him there lor days until he is starved out,
when he finally jumps down into the gang of
them as they stand bunched around at the root
of the tree, and in ten seconds he is hog meat.
They belong to the same iamily as the peccary,
ot Texas, and with the.r long tusks, a party of
them will tear up a man m less time than
tame pig will eat an ear ot corn. They don’t
know what fear is, and when you set out to
light a drove ot Honduras hogs you must make
up your mind to kill every pig m the party,
because wheu the battle is once on they never
turn tail.
The Antiquity of Ropes. —Before the
beginning of the historical period considerable,
skill in ropemaking had been acquired, so that
it must be classed among the oldest of tho arts.
The existing relics of the ancient Egyptians in
clude sculptures showing the process of manu
facture practiced more than 4,000 years ago,
while the oldest records of that people repre
sent well made ropes o great strength. Flax,
and the fibres of the date tree were employed
r or those ropes, but grasses and the hides of
animals were probably among the first mate
rials used.
A Woman’s Life in Japan. —Before
marriage a Japanese daughter is a child, owing
the protoundest submission to her parents and
relatives. She has no voice in the choosing of
her husband, whom she barely sees, and of
whom she knows practically nothing, before the
nuptial ceremony. Tbe sexes make pairs, not
matches, and the pairing is managed by a go*
between. Alter marriage the wife is little bet
ter than a slave or chattel. Docility, sacrifice
and seif-e'acement are well-nigh the sum oi
her daily duties.
The Satanic Magpie. —Tho country*
folk in Oldenburg consider the magpie io be so
imbued with Satanic principles that, it a cross
be cut on the tree in which the bird has built,
she will forsake her nest at once. There are
several reasons for this bird's bad reputation
in the North ot England. One of them is “ be
cause she was the only bird that would not go
into the ark with Noah and bis 10l a. She liked
better to perch on the root and jabber over the
drowning’ world.”
The Type-Writer Injurious to
ines ' Men. -An Albany physician, noticing St
failing in muscular power of many business
men, on inquiry lound that they had beenuaingg .
type-writers or stenographers, instead of
ing their own letters. This, strange as it ma>
appear, has deprived, the physician says, busi
ness men ol a little 5 ery desirable musoulaxv
exorcise of the right arm, and has to some ex*
tent aflected their general health.
It is Absurd
For people to expect a cure for Indiges
tion, unless they refrain from eating v
what is unwholesome ; but if anything
will sharpen the appetite and give tone
to the digestive organs, it is Ayer’s Sar- ?
saparilla. Thousands all over the land
testify to the merits of this medicine. ■
Mrs. Sarah Burroughs, of 248 Eighth
street, South Boston, writes: “My hus
band has taken Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, fol
Dyspepsia and torpid liver, and has
been greatly benefited.” -
A Confirmed Dyspeptic.
C. Canterbury, of 141 Franklin st.,
Boston, Mass., writes, that, suffering
for years from Indigestion, he was at
last induced to try Ayer’s Sarsaparilla
and, by its use, was entirely cured. MS:
Mrs. Joseph Aubin, of High street,
Holyoke, Mass., suffered for over a year
from Dyspepsia, so that she could not
eat substantial food, became very weak,
and was unable to care for her family.
Neither the medicines prescribed by
physicians, nor any of the remedies
advertised for the cure of Dyspepsia,
helped her, until she commenced the
use of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. “Three
bottles of this medicine,” she fl
“ cured me.” i'
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla,"
PREPARED BY 1
Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowe!!, Mass.
Brice $1; six bet,ties, |5. a beJU*,-